The Art of Insomnia
by Sixth Night
Summary: A late night visit leads to more than either of them expected. [VinTi]
1. Stay

Insomnia often had pleasant facets, if one looked closely enough. On such a terribly grim evening, however, he was disinclined to seek such delectation. The rain had been pouring down, dancing upon the roof tops for hours. The sound was welcome to his ears, but that was not enough to soothe him into slumber. Using the tips of his knees as a makeshift pillow, he allowed sanguine irises to roam the silhouette of the neighboring buildings in idle attentiveness. The menacing ashen clouds filtered the glow of the moon and what wan light did manage to leak through was forgotten in the darkness. Perhaps that was the reason he'd been so surprised to see her wandering through the streets below, seemingly lost beneath the deluge released by the sky.

As if to be sure he was not dreaming, he blinked twice and moved to the window where he met the icy glass to gain a better look. The tail of her leather attire swished just so, catching his eye. The tips of white cotton peeked from beneath her vest to come alight beneath a street lamp, sealing the deal. What could she possibly be thinking?

Without hesitation, he moved from the bed and slipped from his humble apartment into the dingy halls. The push bar banged against the glass door as he swung it wide and entered the watery streets, narrowing his eyes to search for her form again. It really couldn't be that difficult, the street did not fork off for another block or so. The rain began to soak through his cloak, tickling down his chest in hurried streams as he started to stray from the apartment building. A fair pace sent him down the cobbled stone, and he found her just feet from where he'd last seen her. She was standing, straddling the center of the street and looking around as if she were lost.

"Tifa?" he called, his voice breaking the silent song of the rain.

Startled by his appearance, she turned quickly and her eyes softened when they settled upon him. There was something in her eyes, an odd emptiness he only saw on those occasions that Cloud abandoned reason to chase ghosts. Through parted pastel, she breathed a puff of steam. The air was chilled enough to bite at his skin beneath leather, and she was certainly far less covered.

"You're going to get sick out here," he added. Still, she stood unmoving.

"It's not that bad…" she finally spoke, her voice low and subtle.

"Don't be ridiculous." With that, he gestured toward the apartment building, "Come on."

Tifa must have realized that he was right, and she slowly began to walk toward the glowing door. The frown perched upon her lips betrayed her, and he knew in that moment that she was beginning to break. When they met the door, he opened it for her, waiting until she was a good distance down the hall before entering himself. She knew where to go from there; she'd visited a few times whenever she was in the area. Her company was always a ray of light through the darkness that enveloped his mind all too often.

Inside, she leaned against the bar top of the kitchen counter, shivering and dripping from head to toe. Watching her for a moment was reason enough to grab two plush, red towels from the linen cabinet beside the bathroom. He handed one over, and set the other atop the bed. He worked quickly at the buckles and belts holding his cloak in place, allowing the fabric to fall away as he tossed it into the bathroom. Such things could be dealt with later.

"So maybe it was really c-cold outside," she said, teeth chattering on the 'C.'

"What are you doing here?" he asked, holding the other towel incase she happened to need it. The carpet was beginning to turn darker beneath the puddle she was dripping onto the floor.

"I needed to talk," she admitted, gaze faltering to the floor.

An interesting response, since he'd finally gotten a phone after the insistence of several who shall go unnamed. She'd come all this way on foot, simply to talk? He didn't buy that. She was running.

"I hope I'm not intruding," she offered dryly. He could see her frail lashes flutter briefly, as if blinking back tears.

"Not at all," he consoled. She was never intruding when she stopped by to talk or visit, but usually she was on much happier terms.

A chill raked her spine and she shuddered involuntarily, running her hands up and down her biceps to rush away the cold. The sight brought the sympathy he'd stored away bubbling to the surface, and he came to the conclusion that she was not about to get warm beneath all that freezing leather. He wandered over to the dresser and pulled out the middle drawer, removing a white cotton shirt and a pair of boxers he hadn't worn in ages.

"Here," he offered the clothing to her with gloved fingers, watching as she accepted the items cautiously.

"Thanks… freezing to death doesn't sound like much fun," she laughed delicately and started for the bathroom.

"I'd imagine not," he added as she closed the door. He took that opportunity to remove the soaked bandana from his forehead, the relief from the moisture obstructed by the slosh of water elsewhere. Getting dry with all this… clothing, would be impossible.

When she emerged shyly with the white shirt draping around her torso and the shorts falling mid thigh, he had to avoid her to keep from gawking. Crossing that line between friendship and romance wasn't at the top of his to-do list, but he'd never deny the fact that she was an attractive woman. With a thin smile, she dabbed her matted hair with a towel and wandered further into the room.

"What did you wish to talk about?" he asked, remembering her purpose for coming. Though quite content, he shifted uncomfortably beneath the cold leather.

"Well… before I get on to that, you should really change. You're so busy worrying about me," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed. She really did make herself at home whenever she was around.

"I suppose you're right," he replied. The thought of listening to whatever ailed her with the interruption of sticky, wet leather was less than appealing.

He fumbled through the bottom drawer, seeking the pair of black pajamas he never really wore. Living alone meant having the liberty to sleep in whatever one desired to sleep in—including nothing at all.

Peeling off the leather and buckles, gauntlet and boots proved noisy and difficult in the cramped bathroom. The semi-studio apartment was far from accommodating when visitors came. Perhaps that said something about him? Dismissing the thought, he dried off and slid on the black pants and tee shirt. The look he received when he came into the living room was nothing if not forward, but he calculated that it was due to the fact that she'd never really seen him quite that naked. Once or twice she'd seen him in a dress shirt and slacks, and she knew full well about his favored gauntlet, but never in a short sleeved shirt with bare feet. Interesting how she seemed to smile even through the sadness tugging at her eyes.

"Much better," she said as cheerily as she could manage.

He nodded, moving into the kitchen to pour a bit of water into the kettle. The sound of the tap water filling the kettle drown his thoughts a moment, but he turned the lever as soon as the water met the half way point. The kettle was set with a distinct clink, the stove igniting beneath the metal. There was one thing he knew would send the chill away and perhaps even bring a lengthier smile back to that pretty face.

Waiting for the water to boil, he came around the counter and leaned against it as she had done when she first came inside. He ventured a glance toward her, hoping to see something more than a frown and downcast eyes. She heaved a sigh, shoulders sloping downward as he watched.

"Did he leave?" he asked, watching a dry smirk form on her lips.

"Wouldn't that be easier," she said with a faint, breathed laugh. Routine was always predictable and easy. "Actually, this time _I_ left."

This was a new development. Several times she'd called to work things out in her mind after Cloud would wander off. Once or twice, she even came over to escape the loneliness she was left to. Never had she left _him_ there, at Seventh Heaven. "What happened?" he asked, listening to the water as it began to bubble meekly.

She met his gaze, "I guess I got fed up. I don't know what came over me, but I got up and thought 'I should just leave.'" A dejected smile followed her words, a chaser to a sour statement.

"And the bar?" he queried. He could imagine her frustration with Cloud, but the bar was her livelihood. And what about… "the kids?"

"They're sleeping, of course. Luckily, Barret's will be there in the morning to take them for a week. The bar… he'll manage it," she replied without missing a beat. Clearly, this had been coming for longer than she let on.

The kettle interrupted with a shrill cry, and he abandoned the conversation to shut off the stove. The cry faded as he brought two mugs over and poured a bit of cocoa into each. Tifa usually preferred milk to water, but he was fresh out. He carefully poured the water in and stirred the contents with a spoon lifted from the silver ware drawer.

He carried the steaming mugs over to the bed and held one out to her, which she gracefully accepted. "Thanks, I needed this." Another fleeting smile, but encouragement enough. And what, pray tell, did she need? The hot cocoa, or his company?

He sat beside her, dangling one leg lazily off the bed while crooking the other to create a perch for his elbow. The mug rested between bare fingers, his eyes settling once again on hers.

"This is all rash, I know… he'll have no idea where I've gone," she brought the mug to her lips and blew on the hot cocoa, watching the steam drift listlessly in the breeze she created.

"Sometimes that's necessary," he added. Decisions often needed to be hastily made, unless one desired to drift endlessly on indecision.

"I guess," she nodded, sipping her first taste of the warm drink.

He watched her curiously, knowing that if he'd failed to make it correctly, she'd give that tell tale face she always had when something tasted _off_. When she sighed indulgently and smiled, he realized he'd mixed the right amount of cocoa in. "What will you do now?"

A fair question, but one she obviously was not prepared to answer. She shrugged and let the mug lower into her lap, staring absently at the opposite wall. "I… I don't know."

This was so unlike her, and yet so justified. A woman could only be pushed so far before emotions shut down and things stopped working. He was suddenly angry with Cloud for putting her in such a state, but the emotion was unjustified. The boy likely hadn't a clue what he'd done to her. He was fairly ignorant to some of the more delicate things in life, and several times he'd sent her whirling in a fix of disarray.

"Vincent…" she began, looking toward him with moistened eyes. He encouraged her by nodding, his head tilted downward. "Can I… stay here tonight?"

The question caught him off guard. It occurred to him that she really didn't have anywhere else to go, and staying at the inn would be rather lonely. He didn't much feel like driving to Edge, though Kalm was not too far in distance. That left but one option, and she'd clearly found that most appealing.

As if she felt the need to justify the question and break the hanging silence, she added "I don't want to be alone…" Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly, but he caught it. A glistening tear hung dangerously close to the corner of her eye, but she pushed it away with a quick hand.

That was quite compelling, to say the least. Understandably, she had no desire to lie in a cold bed and think about what had transpired earlier in the evening. She'd stayed over once before, when she'd come for the festival and consumed a little too much of the spiked punch to make it home. However, that night she'd been loud and nearly disturbed half the building before he coaxed her into going to bed. It really wasn't too much to ask, though for some inexplicable reason, he felt as if he were wedged in a predicament. Nevertheless, he agreed. "You can stay…"

"I appreciate it," she forced a smile and resumed to sipping from the mug. He took a sip himself this time, enjoying the way the rich chocolate flooded his mouth and caressed his tongue before continuing to warm his stomach.

"So what made you leave?" There was no avoiding the fact that she'd need to get this off her chest before making any attempt to sleep. Besides, he wanted to listen to whatever she had to say, just to hear her speak in that animated, lovely voice. It was then he realized how much he enjoyed her company. She was always full of interesting conversation and oddly insightful musings. Perhaps seeing her more often in the past year and a half, since Cloud started back up with those unreliable ways, had worn on his stubborn soul.

"A lot of things, I suppose. It built for so long… you know? I don't know why I kept taking him back through all the stages of disappearance. Lately, he's been coming home late with remnants of dust or flower pollen. And the smell is unmistakable," she shook her head, downing a gulp of cocoa as if he'd spiked it with something to dull the pain.

"It's easy to fall back on things that are comfortable," he mused. That was close to the truth for any human being. Routine, pattern, addiction… they were all comfortable ways to deal with every day life. "So he's been at the church?"

"Of course. I asked him… back when I found out he had Geostigma, whether it would be a memory… or us. I guess I didn't want to see the answer, since it didn't fit my hopes and expectations. But here I am, over three years later… still asking him the same question every night." At this, she gave an indignant laugh. As if there were any humor to be found in the hard truth she'd just voiced.

"I'm sorry," was all he could think to say. There were many things drifting by on the tip of his tongue, but it was as if razor blades and rose in his throat, forbidding him to voice any of the questions or bits of thought. She already knew most everything he might say, this situation was nothing new.

Why did people always cling to those who hurt them most? It was a self destructive path quite common in the present day, and he pondered the reasons for such an affliction. The idea that Tifa would stay around through all of Cloud's odd habits and destructive patterns was a mystery to him.

"Well…" she started, her speech interrupted by a wide yawn which she politely covered with a fisted hand. "I really don't want to think about this any more."

He noticed the tenderness of the reddened skin beneath her eyes, and judging by the second yawn she exhaled in a matter of minutes, she must have been physically and emotionally exhausted. Before he could ask if she felt like going to sleep, she set her mug on the end table and faced him almost nervously.

"Vince…?" she asked, as if the next words would somehow damage him.

"Tifa…" he replied, narrowing his eyes reflexively.

"Are you sure I'm not imposing?" she asked timidly. Always worrying about others. That must be a tiring existence.

"I'm sure," he replied with a faint smile.

"Then… can I ask you a question?" He should have predicted that.

"Go ahead…"

"Have you ever found peace? I mean… truly?" She looked at him with such dire emotion, he felt as if he were beneath a magnifying glass. And where did this come from? Was she actually concerned for her future… or perhaps wondering whether she'd ever find an end to this rocky relationship she'd relied on for nearly six years?

"Tifa… peace is an elusive concept. To be at peace, one must know conflict." He sipped the last of his cocoa, wondering where it had gone during their conversation, and set the mug away on the floor by the end of the bed.

Something must have been funny, perhaps had a cocoa mustache? She laughed audibly and smiled, "And that was an elusive answer."

The sweet chorus of her laughter did not last nearly as long as he wished it would, but perhaps he would make her laugh some other time. For now, he was more concerned with the way she'd just inched toward him on the mattress. Without any hint of hesitation, she rested her head against his chest and draped an arm across his leg, toying with a loose thread from his cotton pants. The innocent move toward physical comfort did not catch him with frozen limbs, and he moved his hand to stroke her back consolingly.

After a moment of silence, she looked up at him, though she did not move away. "Thanks, Vincent…" she whispered, looking quite content. The glassy tears that had shone in her Chianti eyes had simply vanished, and he gloated inwardly to think that he'd aided her in finding a little peace of her own.

"For?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, I don't know… being there right when I needed you?" she smiled brightly, and he realized just why he had become her confidant in the first place.

"Well, would you prefer I just send you back onto the streets?" He smirked shamelessly, letting her realize that he was only being sarcastic.

"Smart ass," she mumbled, barely enough so that he could register the words. Another yawn came crashing onto her and she hid her face near his collar bone, blowing the moist warmth against his neck. The accidental affection sent a shiver crawling down his spine, but he set that aside and looked to her with concern.

"You really should rest," he said, brushing his chin across the crown of her head.

"You're probably right…" she inhaled a deep breath, and brushed her thumb against the delicate flesh beneath her left eye. "I can barely see straight."

He waited until she moved away from him to stand, how ever reluctantly. As he began to gather the spare blankets from the linen closet, she gave him quite the glare. "I don't think so, Vincent Valentine. You are not sleeping on the floor again," she ordered.

He was in for it now. The idea of sleeping with her wasn't necessarily unappealing, but it brought to light _other_ things he was not prepared to think about. However, ignoring a demand of Tifa's was asking for a lot more than he felt like bargaining. He settled the blankets back on the shelf and shut the cabinet door. She was already inching beneath his messy blankets, burying her head against the pillow when he turned back toward the bed.

With an inaudible sigh, he pulled back the covers and climbed in beside her. The bed was hardly larger than a twin, and the space between them was made even less as she cuddled in beside him. The tips of her fingers graced the raised flesh of a scar on his arm from peak to tip, trailing feather light across his skin until she tangled her fingers with his. He breathed a deep breath, letting his fingers join with hers.

Within minutes, her breathing had evened out and he supposed that she'd fallen into slumber. He idly let his thoughts drift as he lay beside her, wondering what tomorrow might bring. For a moment, he wished she'd just let Cloud go…

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Well, there it is. I couldn't possibly have played Dirge without stumbling into the desire to write a little bit of fiction. Vincent was marvelous, and of course… so evolved my latest creation based more on his personality in the game and also a bit from Advent Children. Tifa may have seemed down here, but that's to be expected as she's likely hit rock bottom on this Cloud mess.

Why is it always raining in my fictions? Well, for one—it aided the plot of this first chapter. But as you might have guessed, I'm obsessed with storms and rainy weather. I just love the smell of rain and the sound of thunder. It's also quite romantic. I swear, one day I'll write sunshine… but for now, it was necessary ;)

I began this as a one-shot, but now I have ideas flooding in and a strong pull to spawn a multi-chapter fiction. Shall I? Suggestions, comments and the like would be much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

-- _Randi_ --

Top of Form


	2. Lullaby

The rain tapped its melody on the roof, Tifa's steady breaths intertwined with each consecutive drop. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, adding to the countless minutes that had passed since she'd fallen asleep. These were the sounds accompanying his insomnia. Each sound seemed magnified, but none came as loud as his own thoughts. There were many questions roaming the folds of his mind that evening and an agonizing number of them centered on the woman lying beside him, her fingers laced with his.

Tifa stirred softly in the covers, a rich sigh breaking into the chorus of the night as she nuzzled unconsciously into his bicep. He lay on his back, watching the ceiling with little interest. If only he could just fall asleep. The entire evening hadn't necessarily caught him off guard, but the thoughts that he'd entertained since she'd arrived had. It was much easier to put feelings aside and ignore the intricate aspects of his relationship with Tifa when Cloud was around. But when dreams broke down between her and Cloud, things never ceased to awaken inside him. A set of 'what-ifs' would always sneak into his head whenever such a situation arose. He began to wonder if that didn't boil down to the concept of rescuing her from this self destruction, as he'd failed to do with Lucrecia. The guilt of standing by still bothered him at times, though in the past years he'd began to manage it more successfully, perhaps even learned to put it behind in some ways.

In the years after the Planet's intervention, Vincent had watched Tifa begin to shift. At times, she was able to put on that happy smile and convince a few people that she was still the optimistic girl that had accompanied them to the ends of the planet to fight evil. Even back then, he'd seen the vulnerability in her. There was a frailty beneath the smile, and an indecisive nature hiding beneath the beauty of her eyes. At the time, he'd not put a name to the cause, but he quickly discovered that the causes were several, beginning with her history and leading right up to Cloud. In the past months, no one was convinced of her plastic smile aside from Tifa herself. Cloud may have even realized just how artificial her outward personality had become. She was but a fragment of the person she once was. To watch such a thing happen to someone so undeserving was frustrating.

Certain points on his back began to bother him; he never was one to lie in one position for too long, so he rolled cautiously onto his side. When he'd finished the maneuver, Tifa fidgeted yet again, pushing her forehead against his chest so that the crown of her head came beneath his chin. The scent of rose and amber flooded his senses, a mixture quite contradictory. Sensual and intense. Delicate and strong. Feminine and masculine. He wondered if she'd chosen it for a reason, or merely because it was an enchanting fragrance. Though, he doubted she'd analyze this as he just had.

Whether by the sweet fragrance or the song of the rain, he finally relaxed into a comfortable sleep.

---

Not much passed through the realm of his dreams, or at least not anything he could recall when the white rays of light trickled through the bare window. At once, he tightened his eyelids, hoping to cling to that last thread of slumber. The fact that he'd forgotten to pull down the shade before going to sleep swam through his mind, an annoying awakening.

Allowing one eye to drift open, he surveyed the scene. Tifa was surprisingly in almost the exact position in which she'd been when he'd fallen asleep. His fingers felt oddly cramped from being bound to hers throughout the night. Hesitantly, he began to separate each digit, flexing them once breaking free of her grip. Stiff as a board. The air outside was calmer; the ashen clouds a much lighter shade than they had been the previous day. The rain had taken a break, for now.

In the growing light, he noticed that Tifa had wedged her face further between his chest and the mattress and he couldn't help but run his fingers across the silken layers resting against the back of her head. She obviously needed the rest, judging by the comment she'd made about not being able to see straight. The light would never permit her to sleep in, so he slowly inched distance between their bodies and lifted onto his elbow. This would be tricky. He pressed against the mattress, counter balancing his weight as he stretched gently across her. Luckily, the long draw string attached to the shade was in reach, and he pulled it quietly down until the room darkened considerably. Just as he began to move back toward his side of the bed, she readjusted onto her back, placing him in an odd position, hovering over her. To say he appreciated the way she looked in that moment would be an understatement.

The slight curve of her brows arched across serene features struck him as a stark contradiction to the previous evening's expression. Perched on her lips was a faint smile, not the sort she gave in consciousness. She slept so peacefully in that moment. Rather than wake her with quick movements, he cautiously shifted back toward the opposite side of the bed, managing to slip off the mattress seemingly unnoticed.

With a stifled yawn, he began to make his way toward the counter where he'd left a book sleeping lazily atop the surface. There were still several chapters to be read and time had not progressed past seven in the morning. Slipping back to his place in the bed as cautiously as he'd exited, he leaned back and settled into a comfortable position while opening the novel to a marked page a quarter of the way through.

In the pages of a novel, one could most certainly be lost. It would be hard not to be enveloped in the lives of fictitious characters when the story in which they dwell contains excitement and emotion almost unknown to the real world. A good book was always something he could enjoy. He had an appreciation for most well written works, regardless of the genre in which they fell. Recently, he'd been sucked into a series of mystery novels set in a universe unknown to any but the author. Yet, somehow, events in the story seemed to align with certain characteristics of his life. This had piqued his curiosity, originally, but now he read the final book more in habit whenever he had nothing else to do. And so the minutes would pass in silence as he read on through the events of a foreign world.

As he turned the pages toward the end of the novel, he heard Tifa adjust her position and laugh gingerly into the silence. Moving his eyes from the text, he found her watching attentively. He hadn't heard her wake, if she'd done so before the laugh. A smile brightened her features as she propped her chin on curled fingers.

"You were so focused," she announced, turning her eyes and lips to mock his so called focus.

"And that face is ridiculous," he teased. She laughed again, losing the stern expression.

She reached to tip the novel forward, peeking at the title through narrowed eyes. "_White_? That's an odd title," she observed.

"It's an odd book," he replied while closing the cover and setting aside his distraction.

"Ah… I should have known." She nodded, and trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. By the way she'd averted her eyes; he ventured a guess that she wasn't feeling much of an improvement over the previous evening.

"Did you sleep well?" To this, she inadvertently frowned, creating a serious face as if she were carefully formulating her response.

"I did," she replied with a nod, though he couldn't help but feel that there would be a 'but' involved. "But I could really go for breakfast right about now." She was disentangling herself from the sheets and moving over his legs as quickly as the words had left her mouth. She was in the kitchen in seconds, throwing the refrigerator open to peer inside.

"There's not much in there," he reminded her. She rose from the hunched position she'd assumed when trying to get a better look, directing a good natured glare toward him.

"I can see that," she said, looking a little disappointed with the left corner of her mouth tugged up gently.

"There's a coffee house down the street," he offered, hoping she'd leave the barren fridge. It wasn't that he didn't eat; he actually preferred to order in or eat out. Cooking, beyond simple meals of repetitive flavor, was not a skill he possessed; he had no need for it. She still didn't look very impressed. "They serve fresh muffins and scones, among other things."

Finally, she nodded agreeably. "That works." The fridge closed with a tap and she roamed through the apartment into the bathroom. When she'd passed by, he noticed the same delicacy around her eyes. Perhaps she was coming to the realization that Cloud was sure to be waking at this time, if not already, to an empty bed. The waltz of deception and indecision had drawn to a close, for now. Would that be disappointing for Cloud? For that matter, would Tifa be able to successfully pull away before being trapped into the routine once more? Usually, he soothed her with false words that Cloud would come around. He hated to put on that charade, but telling her that Cloud was an immature boy incapable of fixing his life enough to care for her the way she deserved didn't seem to be the best of ideas. He idly wondered how much would be 'enough' for her to make this decision to leave permanent. He wanted to see her well again, to see her happy.

His thoughts were interrupted when she reappeared with quite a frown, the leather she usually wore crumpled and stale around her thin frame. Leather never did react well to being thoroughly soaked and left in a heap on the floor throughout the night. The vest must have been useless, for the thin white tank usually beneath was wrapped nicely around her upper torso.

"I did the best I could to hang this up, but it must have fallen," she said while gesturing to the bottom half of her ensemble.

He smirked, observing the strange angle at which one of the short legs pulled away from her knee. "Well, I guess you can't go around like that."

"It's that bad?" she inquired, obviously thinking she could salvage at least the shorts.

"It'll need to be straightened out before you wear it again." With that, he moved from the bed to the drawer of the dresser. Again, he searched for something half decent and he settled for a pair of black cotton pants much like the ones he wore. She could roll the bottom and tie the drawstring until the waist bunched. Not that his waist was anything formidable. He held the pants out to her and she thanked him before disappearing into the bathroom again, the tail of her outfit swishing far less gracefully than it had last night.

He gathered a pair of black slacks and a dress shirt dyed a deep shade of crimson, along with appropriate undergarments and socks. If her attire was in such dire shape, his would likely be the same until he took some time to coax it back into decency. Besides, he didn't much need to be dressed that way to accompany her to the coffee house, or one of the shops he assumed she'd probably want to visit. She'd likely avoid going back to Seventh Heaven clothed in his pants and shirt.

She emerged the second time with the waist of his pants tied tightly with bunched elastic. The hems were rolled up and rested lazily over her sneakers, which must have been dry enough to manage. With the white tank, she wore a strange combination of disheveled attractiveness that he didn't much mind.

"Better?" she asked with a grin.

"Much," he replied as he brushed past her to steal the bathroom. He felt like a shower, having not taken one since the prior evening, but Tifa was hungry. After redressing, he slid on a pair of shoes just outside the door and was met with burgundy irises as he rolled the cuffs of his sleeves half way up each forearm.

"I'm getting attached to seeing you like this, Vince."

The sweet compliment came as a bit of a surprise, and his eyes widened ever so slightly as he finished the last cuff. "Is that so?"

"Mhm. I like your usual look, but this… this is just sophisticated and handsome."

He supposed that was true, to a point. The styles were infinitely different. Actually, he just liked the fact that she had been so generous with her compliments. He opened the door opposite the bathroom door and removed one of the coats that happened to be residing inside. Leather, again, but this time it would do just fine. "Here," he said as he slipped behind her. She obliged and he inched the coat over her arms and wrapped it around her shoulders, narrowly escaping the impulse to wrap her in his arms.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine," he replied, propping the front door open for her. She passed him, carrying with her that intoxicating scent which he could not push from his mind. Once she waited in the hall, he closed the door and joined her as they exited the building.

The coffee house was literally a few doors down and without the rain, the walk was pleasant. She hugged her torso as they walked, but he assumed this was not from the weather. The air was chilled, but not to the point it had been the previous evening.

When they entered through a small wooden door, he noticed that Tifa took a moment to glance around the interior of the quaint room. He'd always liked to come here and read accompanied by the rich aroma of coffee beans and the sweet tune of unique jazz played quietly from speakers perched around the ceiling. The dim lighting was not the best for reading, but the chairs were plush and inviting, so he let his eyes strain. The heater was working to keep the room at a nice temperature, and Tifa quickly shrugged off the coat and hung it on the coat rack as they approached the counter.

She posted her hands on her knees as she gazed through the glass display, eyes traveling over the various items offered, from breakfast to dessert. Without intention to unnerve her, he came beside her to observe the treats. Though he was close to her ear, he hadn't expected his voice to send her lashes fluttering and bring a tint of pink to her pale cheeks when he asked her if she saw anything she liked. She simply looked to him with a timid smile and said, "I think so."

The skeleton of a smirk played his lips before he turned his attention to the blonde behind the cash register. "I'll have the dark roast, along with a black forest scone."

"Vincent! That's practically dessert…" Tifa seemed to find his taste humorous, a light laugh carrying across the soft tones of the music.

"I like to indulge," he replied, allowing the smirk to form at full strength for a split second.

"Anything else?" the blonde asked.

"Just the breakfast blend and one of those fruit…platters," Tifa answered, glancing down at a plate with several fresh slices of fruit.

"All right, that'll be fifteen gil," followed several little beeps.

Vincent removed the required amount from a small zip wallet kept in his pocket and handed the gil to the woman before Tifa had a moment to protest. The blonde exchanged the gil for two cups of hot coffee, and he could tell which was his simply by the hue of the contents.

"You didn't have to do that," Tifa commented as she lifted the two small plates holding their 'breakfast' from the counter with expertise, walking gracefully behind him while he sought a decent table. Years of working as a waitress seemed to pay off at times.

"I know." The table he chose sat enticingly in a dim corner beneath a paper lamp that cast a warm glow over the rich, dark wood of the table. Several times he thought about inquiring as to where the owner of the café had gotten the chairs, but fitting the oversized arm chairs into his apartment would have proved difficult. He took a seat and set the tall mug with chestnut coloration on the opposite side of the table. Tifa carefully placed the chocolate scone before him and sat, watching him curiously.

"Aren't you the gentleman," she remarked as she took up two packets of sugar and a small individual serving of vanilla creamer.

Was that such a bad thing? He supposed that it just might be, given their situation. He always carried a sense of morality, not to be mistaken for anything else. However, he found that his habits improved when Tifa was around. Perhaps she'd taken precedence over the recent months as they'd grown closer. Somewhere in his attempts to be a consoling friend, he'd come to care for her beyond anything he could have expected. But he'd written this off, content to help her when she needed it and let her go whenever Cloud decided to reappear. There are some who would find that disturbing, yet it did not bother him. Some would say he ought to save her from the dysfunctional relationship, but he hadn't the desire to repeat history. Perhaps she'd come around on her own, which would be far better than persuasion. Then she would feel that she'd made her own choices, and she wouldn't have to look back with question and maybe even regret.

Tifa broke the seal on the creamer and watched it pour into the coffee, followed by the sugar. Once again nibbling on her bottom lip, she stirred the liquid until it turned a milky shade of lighter brown. The usual glint in her eye was simply absent, as it had been when he found her in the rain. Taking a sip of the bold roast, he geared up for the conversation that would likely take place whenever she decided to bring the subject back up. It would only be a matter of time. Tifa never could remove her mind from what happened whenever Cloud left, and Vincent assumed it would be no different in this case.

"So, how long can I keep you?" Tifa asked, pushing a smile.

"As long as you need, I suppose." Vincent cut off a piece of the scone with the fork provided and snaked the delicious pastry into his mouth. Having Tifa's company a little longer would certainly not be a burden.

"I was thinking of heading over to the boutique near the center of town, just to pick up something decent to wear…" she thought aloud, finally biting into a slice of pink fruit. She chewed softly, watching him for some sort of reaction. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all." He sipped a bit more of the coffee, washing down the remnants of chocolate.

She nodded gingerly, biting into another slice of pink flesh. The juice slipped down her chin, causing her to trail the tip of her finger over her skin, gathering the transparent liquid. The sun finally crept from behind the layers of clouds, spilling light down onto the street outside and she held a smile as she finished the last of that slice of fruit. "I guess the sun will shine, after all."

The comment struck him as odd, though he did not inquire as to what she meant, precisely. Having the habit of reading into the words spoken was never the best habit, anyhow. It would be easier if things were so black and white, but there were always grey areas. That mind of his particularly enjoyed playing with those grey areas.

"I have no idea what I'd do without you…" she added, almost dreamily. She leaned lazily against the edge of the table, her imperceptibly disheveled hair brushing over her bare collarbone on its way to the surface of the table. The view her vest would not have provided distracted him for a moment, but he averted his eyes to meet her gaze. "I really hope I'm not driving you crazy."

_Not in the way you're suggesting… but crazy nonetheless. _"It's no trouble at all, Tifa."

She accepted the answer and went back to savoring the remainder of the fruit, while he enjoyed the last of the scone. Those things would be the death of him. The small portion of coffee that remained in his mug quickly grew cold, and she'd finished hers just after trying a tidbit of his scone that he'd managed to part with.

"Ready?" she asked, likely aware all of the same things he'd noticed.

"Sure," he replied as he rose from the chair.

He led the way toward the coat rack, where he once again did the honors of slipping the item over her arms and shoulders. She smiled shyly and began for the door, but was stopped in her tracks by a most disappointing sight. In the short time since she'd noticed the sun's appearance, the clouds had overcome the warmth and started to drizzle cold water down onto the street.

She looked questioningly toward him, a pronounced frown in place. "What now?"

"We'll have to drive to the boutique," he shrugged nonchalantly. The notion was hardly crazy, but she still looked to him with guilt. When would she ever understand that she was not burdening him with anything?

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Well, I simply could not resist continuing. I have so many ideas flowing on this one and I wanted to share this chapter before my birthday tomorrow. All of the reviews given were especially appreciated and I am so glad to see them. I can only hope that chapter two will be as welcomed as the first. The coziness from the first chapter has carried over, because there's nothing quite as lovely as a warm café on a rainy day. I do hope that this version of Vincent I am creating is not displeasing. So, do tell me what you think of this chapter ;) Chapter three should be out relatively soon, and things will certainly gain momentum. The first two chapters were quite purposefully slow as I wanted to focus on his thoughts and feelings toward Tifa. I don't think that this pairing is one to be rushed.

I have found it interestingly easy to write emotions with my husband being in Iraq. It's almost an outlet for those excess amounts of emotion I keep stored away. Please let me know if anything seems… too much, as I might be prone to dramatic things. I'd love to hear any thoughts or suggestions on this chapter and I look forward to sharing chapter three. Thanks for reading!


	3. Once a Turk

The rain fell to the streets adding a fresh, glistening coat to the cobbled stone. The town was so old fashioned in some areas; it was hard to believe they hadn't yet paved these places over in asphalt. Of course, that was what had brought him here. Kalm was a combination of the world he knew and the world he had awakened to.

"I guess we should make a run for it," Tifa said, pulling the coat around tighter.

Without another word, they exited and were about to begin the jog back to his building when Tifa paused mid-stride, looking at him with mischievous eyes that quite honestly made him nervous. He froze, catching her eyes as he stood beneath the falling rain, listening to the remnants of the music playing from the outdoor sitting area of the café.

"…What?" he questioned, completely unsure of her actions. Tifa could be both predictable and capricious all in the same breath. There were times he did not have any idea what would run through her mind. Often, she'd surprised him with a train of thought she wanted to discuss or somewhere she wanted to go. Just when he thought he'd gotten her down as much as was possible, she'd surprise him anew. The only place she lacked any versatility came in the form of a blonde haired boy.

"Dance with me?" she asked with a crooked grin. This did not sit well with him. A moment ago, she was disappointed with the sudden shift in weather and determined to make a run for it. Now, she was asking him to dance in the rain. As cliché as the idea of dancing in the rain was, he found the offer peculiarly enticing coming from her. Still… he couldn't quite picture dancing in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Tifa… you're already out of clothing." Wouldn't that be a shame if she ruined the last of the clothing he could offer her…

_Oh… very nice_. He felt the warmth prickle into the tops of his ears for that thought and quickly dismissed it.

"We're headed that way already," she added. The persistent droplets had already begun to slick her hair down to her cheeks and soak into the hem of the pants she wore.

"I really don't—" he began, but was interrupted when she drew near and rested one hand on his left shoulder while taking his right hand in hers. Electricity spread from the tips of her fingers, incalescence washing through his limbs. The feathered touch wound around his mind and he discovered that she could easily cloud his inhibitions with her fingers.

"Please?" A bona fide pout followed, her eyes alight with something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"You'll not take a…rain check?" Oh, how ridiculous that sounded. By the way she fought back a laugh, it must have sounded just as ridiculous to her.

"I won't. I'll take your gauntlet away for a whole month if you don't dance with me," she threatened playfully.

"Anything but that," he retorted sarcastically. He'd gotten used to being without the gauntlet when he wasn't chasing down the next onslaught of hell raisers. It was but a reminder of his past. While the past should be given due respect, he no longer wished to dwell in its depths.

"Mmm… okay, okay. If you dance with me, I'll repay you with whatever you like," she beamed, seemingly proud of her skills in persuasion. Didn't she realize how much trouble a promise like that could land her in? And where had that frailty disappeared to? Either this was quite an act she was putting on, or she was working hard at distracting herself from the idea that Cloud was wondering where she was. Could it be that she liked the idea of putting one over on Cloud?

_How do you like your revenge, Cloud, shaken or stirred?_

"Anything at all, hm?" He gave her a skeptical once over, keeping his face barren of any expression.

"Anything at all," she assured.

For a moment, they stood below the broken sky in silence with proximity enough that he took notice of the crystals of beaded water caught delicately in the dark veils surrounding her eyes. Slowly, his rigid posture softened, a gesture she took as an invitation to begin her slow rhythm enhanced by the music from the coffee shop. The fluidity in her movements had taken him from the moment her lovely hips began to sway. He found the idea that she'd possess such grace rather natural, as her stance and motion in battle had often struck him as balletic.

He let her lead for a few minutes before coaxing her into his own waltz of sorts. He hadn't danced in _years_. He'd never danced in the middle of a sidewalk. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd done anything quite so nonsensical and bold. Yet he felt astonishingly at ease, a feeling he was sure he wouldn't have found in such an action had he been with anyone else. For that matter, no one else would have ever lured him into this. That was a most remarkable revelation. They moved together for a little longer.

Her hair, though wet, picked up from her shoulders as he moved her in a calculated circle. The smile sustained on pastel lips was reward enough, but he couldn't help but wonder what he'd decide on as repayment for this dance. Though, he didn't find it necessary that she do anything at all. Even if he found their dance the slightest bit foolish, he was glad to have partaken in this moment. In a forward step, he pulled her lithe form against his to end the masquerade. He was still lost in disbelief that he'd been prey to her charms, and that it had cost him a dance in the midst of a watery street. If anyone—particularly Yuffie—had witnessed this, he'd have surely been the target of her constant jesting. Though, Yuffie's opinion of foolish behavior wasn't exactly anything to gauge by. She had a habit of making herself seem, well, foolish.

After a quick and rather unexpected peck on the cheek, Tifa parted from him. "Where did you learn to dance?" she asked, looking surprised.

"I was a Turk, once," he replied honestly. The parties they often held during his days with the Turks were a stark contradiction to the loud and rambunctious parties now hosted on Shin-Ra's dime. Besides, once one became involved in the world of the Turks, it was unavoidable that he or she would hold on to certain traits undoubtedly influenced by the occupation, if it could be called an occupation.

"That's right…" she nodded and accepted the answer before scaring off a chill by pulling the jacket tight again.

That portion of his being was not one to be forgotten.

"Well, I'm glad I could bribe you into that," she said with a smirk. "So… to the boutique?"

"Unless there's anything else you have the urge to do in the rain." Immediately after the ambiguous comment, he turned and began toward his building. He could almost feel the way her jaw hung slack in incredulity while her eyes bore a hole in the back of his head. She couldn't help but wonder what he had meant by the comment.

Once a good distance down the sidewalk, he heard her take up a quick pace to join him at the door. If she had really taken any offense to the comment, her eyes did not show it as he opened the door for her. Perhaps she'd decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He saw her through the door and they crossed the hall to the opposite door which spilled into the ramshackle garage attached to the apartments.

At the first of the concrete columns, he was grateful to remember that he'd happened to leave his keys in the pocket of the leather coat that Tifa wore. When they neared the gun metal beast parked in the spot between two columns, a tradition of his to avoid the dents and dings that come from parking near other vehicles, he turned his gaze toward her.

"Check the left pocket of that coat," he said. Tifa worked her hand into the pocket and felt around, soon producing a simple set of two keys attached to a fob with door controls.

She held the keys out between her thumb and forefinger and he accepted them, pressing the round grey button. The shapely lamps on the front of the car flashed while a small chirp ricocheted off the dry walls. A brow rose high on Tifa's forehead, her lips shaping a delicate 'O.'

It occurred to him that she hadn't seen his latest indulgence.

"New car?" she asked, lacking words.

"I told you I like to indulge," he replied, eyes gliding over the smooth surface. He'd chosen the color aptly called 'gun metal' for a reason. The curves on the two door, muscular frame had also attracted him. Perhaps the most enticing detail, the interior with leather and comfort abound.

"I think that's an understatement." In that moment, he saw a strange expression cross her face. If he could have read her mind, he would have known that she was wondering what had happened to the brooding Vincent who joined a band of so called heroes in Nibelheim. Of course, he'd slowly come out of that lately, though she'd not noticed due to her own issues. He also would have known that she was finding herself in quite the predicament due to his kindness over the past months. Little did he know that she had often wished she had the nerve to choose him over Cloud.

Once he'd opened the passenger door, Tifa settled down into the dark seat while he shut the door cautiously. He came around and slid the key into the ignition while closing his door. Once the engine roared to life, their outing began with the shift of gears.

"Thanks again for taking me," Tifa said while watching the parked cars on the way to the exit.

"It's no trouble at all." The car eased over the small divot where the driveway connected with the street and he glanced to the right before rounding the corner and heading toward the intersection ahead.

"You really are perfect, you know." To this, Tifa scrunched her nose and smiled at him. Since when had he become perfect?

"That's not true," _and you shouldn't say such things, lest I fall even more in love with you._

"I think it is," she finalized the thought and turned her head to glance out the window, idly running her fingers through cold, damp strands of espresso. A breathy sigh pushed steam onto the window and she fidgeted in the seat. "Do you think he even cares that I left?"

Certainly not the follow up he'd hoped for. With his eyes on the road ahead as they passed a green light, he worked through his mind to find the right words. "I'm sure he does."

"Are you just saying that to be nice?" She tilted her head; peering around the obstruction of his hair to catch a glimpse of what she hoped would be a face to reveal the truth. To her disappointment, he kept an unpretentious demeanor. Though, inwardly, he was a little disappointed that she was so skeptical of his concern.

"I'm not. I think he cares, in his own deluded way." With lips straight as a ruler, he ventured a look in her direction. A miscalculated error. The disappointment riding her eyes and lips sunk his heart.

"Deluded…way?" she choked out the words as if they burned her tongue.

"Tifa, his actions are not those of an honest man. He has good intentions, but no knowledge of how to convey such things correctly." There it was, lain out on the table for her to see. Clearly, the thought troubled her. The truth of his words should not have been any surprise to her, yet she trembled visibly. It affected him to see her so distraught, but he was tired of playing into her destructive ways. He didn't much feel like claiming any guilt over the path she'd end up on if she allowed Cloud his quixotic liberties.

"I know…" she began, sorrow lingering from the tips of her fingers as she twisted a lock of hair nervously. "I shouldn't be so naïve."

The last thing he wanted her to do was to blame herself. The fault was not hers to bear, though the fact that she'd allowed so much harm to come to herself from her acceptance of Cloud's behavior was another story. When he slowed for a red light, her fingers came beneath his chin and directed his face toward hers. He was taken aback by the motion, and looked to her with vague curiosity.

"Am I so unlovable?" she beseeched. Her bottom lip quivered, but her attempts to hold back any tears proved strong, as not a single one spilled. The idea that she would even dream to ask such a question perturbed him. Tifa was many things, but unlovable was far from any word he would appoint to her. The absurd question brought his brows together and curved a slight frown on his features.

"You should not blame yourself…" he said in a low tone, redirecting his eyes to the light as it turned green. He pushed his weight into the accelerator and listened to the gurgled hum of the engine as they moved down the street. The houses and buildings stretched along the sidewalks stood lifeless due to the rain. The town was usually bustling, especially near the market. However, most were indoors hiding away from the looming clouds. Over precautious would perfectly describe the townspeople, as the storm had not yet hit when they disappeared.

"I let this happen…" she said emptily, averting her eyes to the foot well.

"Tifa…" He was at a loss for words. Saying any more to put Cloud down would likely draw her defenses, but he couldn't bring himself to give her anymore false hopes. Doing so had only deepened the grip her emotions had on her.

As quickly as the frown had set upon her lips, she covered it with a weary grin and pointed out the boutique just a few hundred yards up. "That's the one." The subject had changed so abruptly, he was caught on the verge of what he wanted to say, but promptly left it to dwell on his mind.

Vincent kept his silence and approached the store, slowing to follow the corner through into a parking lot down the strip of stores. There weren't very many cars in the lot and he picked a spot quickly, pulling the car in straight. The engine cut when he turned the key and removed it, thus enveloping them in an eerie silence. There were many things he would have liked to say, but none dared to leave his tongue. Was she on the verge of many words, as well?

After a moment, Tifa shifted and leaned her elbow against the seat, facing him with urgency. "You have to stop me… I really want to call him. Don't let me."

How was he going to distract her from calling? A part of him thought of kissing her while she faced him, just a foot away. The same impulsive side of him that had led to the dance just a little while ago. Then again, he did not want to sacrifice the relationship they'd forged in an irrational action. The line he wanted to cross was a line he also sought to preserve.

Rather than ask her how it was she wanted him to stop her, he opened the door and climbed out only to circle the car and open her door. "I've heard shopping is a good distraction." So it wasn't the sort of distraction he preferred, but it would do.

"You're right," she said with a half-hearted laugh.

She exited the car and waited for him to close the door and begin toward the store. The rain had lightened since they left the café, forever on a whimsical schedule. She felt much like the rain, pouring out one moment and reserved the next. Her moods had swung with full force the past couple of days, and it unsettled her. She wasn't one to appreciate that sort of behavior in others; it was only natural that it agitated her.

Once they entered the boutique, Vincent felt a little out of his element. It seemed that Tifa was, as well. The clothing hanging from displays reminded him more of Aerith, in shades of pastels and bright pinks. He really couldn't imagine Tifa in a pink dress.

"Wow…" she marveled at the bold designs, not in favor, but in disappointment. "This used to be a—" Finally, she caught sight of a few rows of decent clothing toward the back of the store. It seemed that even retailers were caught in the hope for an early spring, boasting such clothing in the front and pushing the dark clothing in the back.

She quickly waded through the store, settling before a rack full of black, white, brown and deep red. These were colors he could picture her wearing. Perhaps out of complacency, since he'd only ever known her to wear muted colors. She ran her fingers across several outfits, inspecting the threading and cut of the shirts and skirts. Skirts did not strike her fancy, obviously, for she quickly pushed them back in the rack. It was not really the season for skirts.

"See anything?" Vincent asked thoughtfully, watching as she plucked two black shirts from the rack and compared them.

"I guess. I really don't like shopping…" she mused while sticking one of the shirts back into place.

"You're picky, aren't you?" When she looked to him with a grin, he returned with a smirk.

"I am. I've never been able to find much that I like," she replied. "This might take a while; you don't have to stand around while I search through all this."

How he appreciated her thoughtfulness. "Take your time," he said as he made his way to the bench near the shoe section. He took a seat, watching her while she went to the task of finding a few decent outfits to wear.

Earlier, she'd asked how long she could keep him. The only answer that had come to mind was one that would have likely startled her. Now, as he sat with his arms crossed over his chest, he wondered how long she would be staying. She had expressed her desire to avoid calling Cloud, which led him to believe that she had no intention of going home tonight, either. She seemed content to take her time doing whatever, in no hurry to ask him to drive her home. She hadn't even asked him what he thought she should do, or if he thought she should return. To say the least, this was odd.

Again, he was left to wonder what the future would bring. This time, he wondered what the evening would hold, and when she might decide to return to Seventh Heaven.

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Well, I gave into impulse myself. I began this chapter with one thing in mind, and by the end I was thinking… Where did that come from? The dance was really a spur of the moment idea that really tied some things together. Now—I hope I did not kill this for anyone. I actually realize how … odd this concept of Vincent giving into Tifa's little request is. That was precisely the point, as expressed in the paragraphs surrounding that little piece. It was a bit cheesy, but I like what the subtext is. I imagine that Vincent would be rusty with dancing, but I always thought that was perhaps one romantic skill he might have. Tifa certainly strikes me as a girl who would enjoy a sweet dance.

So, do tell me what you think of this chapter. I don't want to lose anyone by giving into whims, as sometimes I can get caught up in ideas and things that are sometimes different.

And I must confess. I do picture Vincent in a gun metal grey Aston Martin V12 Vanquish. Just a personal opinion that I might have interjected in this chapter.

The next chapter will be speeding things along a little better, as there will be a little bit of a surprise for Tifa ;) I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and again I hope that I have done well with it.


	4. Distraction

Something simply did not sit well. Of all the thoughts passing through his mind at any given moment, this simple revelation troubled him more than he cared to admit.

Vincent sat facing the dressing rooms, where Tifa had disappeared some time earlier with very few items in tow. By the looks of it, she was finding little that suited her tastes in this particular store. He sank into the plush cushions, letting his mind drift. The store was warm, leading him to roll his sleeves to the crook of each elbow.

As if keen to his worrisome thoughts, the cellular phone in his pocket began to vibrate erratically. Unless Tifa had somehow gotten stuck in the dressing room, he really couldn't imagine who else would be calling him. She was the only person who called him on any sort of regular basis. The phone displayed a number he did not recognize, but he knew the city code. This was a call from Edge. The very fact made him numb.

"Hello?"

"Vincent?"

The voice on the other line belonged to precisely the person he'd suspected. "Cloud."

"Have you seen Tifa, lately?" The question came across nonchalantly, but he could hear the worry edging in the undertones of Cloud's voice.

As he was contemplating the reply best suited, the stall door of the dressing room inched open and Tifa stepped cautiously into view, the hem of a feminine black dress trailing mid-calf. The vintage feel of cut took his mind away from any reasonable responses. How he'd love to see her like that more often, shoulders exposed in a flirtatious manner, the ends of her hair sweeping across her back. The way she nibbled her lip as she examined herself in the mirror brought a tinge of heat to his neck. Then she glanced at him, eyes sparkling in the light and a smile dancing upon her lips contagiously. He couldn't help but smile like a fool.

"Vincent?"

_Ah, yes._ "She looks fine…"

"What?" Cloud sounded rather startled, if he wasn't mistaken.

"She's fine, Cloud."

"So," he began, but stalled nervously.

"Yes, she's here." There was no point in lying. That would only land him on dangerous ground with Tifa, if she ever heard about this call.

"I… would you tell her to call me?"

Cloud certainly didn't sound pleased, perhaps a tad perturbed by the idea of Tifa being in Kalm, with him. Of course, that could be in part because of his little mishap with words. "I'll tell her."

"Thanks… the kids have been missing her."

"I'm sure." _But weren't they with Barret? _

"Barret was supposed to pick them up, but he had to put it off. Something with the fields being hot…"

_Oil. The man was chasing wealth, rather than spending time with his daughter._ "Are you having trouble handling things?" _…shouldn't have said that. _

"What? No… I was worried."

Cloud was offended by the question, though he would use no words to betray the fact, his voice said quite enough. "I'll tell her you called."

With that, he flipped the phone closed and wrapped it in his palm. The conversation was quickly tucked into a pocket of his mind. He had Tifa here, with him. For the time being, things were certainly in his favor.

Tifa exited the dressing room once again, and he felt slightly disappointed that she was back in the outfit he'd loaned her. There were several articles of clothing strewn lazily over her arm, and she still wore a smile. Maybe shopping really had helped. She set out for the cash register and the cashier went busily to work, finishing the transaction quickly enough.

Vincent was already to his feet by the time Tifa approached him, and already he could see the wheels turning in her mind. Although he was glad to have seen her in the dress, he knew that the price would be a game of twenty questions. Perhaps that could work in his advantage.

He snuck his hand around her back, cupping the curve of her waist as they walked side by side to the door. If she minded the gesture, her posture did not offer any proof. The little things certainly would play a larger part in this dance. "So you found a few things to your liking?"

"I did. I was a little worried at first, but I managed."

Vincent felt like asking her if she'd purchased the dress, but simply kept the question to himself as he opened the door for her. The rain had ceased again, sporadic as ever. He kept pace with her, thinking how much he enjoyed being by her side.

"Where to now?" he asked.

"Hm… can we figure that out at your place?" She looked to him with a mock cringe.

"Sure."

"It'd be nice to change," she added.

"I'd imagine."

"Not that your pajamas aren't comfy."

"Never." He heard her laugh lightly as they found the car. He opened her door while she climbed in, setting the shopping bags behind the passenger seat.

The leather was nearly cold enough to qualify for freezing when he finally settled into the driver's seat, and he could see her bundle up in attempt to keep warm. The engine started with a purr, and he let the temperature gauge work its way up a line or two before turning on the heater. The conversation had gone strangely since leaving the store. He could practically taste her curiosity on the chilled air.

"It seems colder than it did earlier…" she mused.

"The heat should warm the car in a minute," he replied.

Once he eased the car out of the lot and onto the road, he settled his arm lazily over the center console. The surface was cold enough to prompt spots of gooseflesh over his forearm, noticeable enough that Tifa snickered in the seat beside him. He was about to protest her amusement when she touched his arm, drawing her fingers up and down his skin until the base of his neck came alive with a tingling sensation. The warmth seeped from her finger tips, spreading wide through his stomach until his eyes involuntarily slid closed for a brief moment. He decided it was much, much warmer than it had been a second before.

It seemed that several minutes had passed in a cocoon of silence, before her voice rang through. "You should really roll your sleeves back down! You've got goose bumps."

He fought the urge to tell her that was not all he would have if she decided to continue the sweet touch and concern. He swallowed. "I can't very well do that while driving."

"You've honestly never used your knee?" she asked in surprise.

"Not really, no."

"Wow. Here—" she began to roll the sleeves of his shirt down from the crook of his right elbow, her nails inadvertently trailing over his skin. The gooseflesh did not subside. "Concentrate on that driving."

"I don't know if that's possible…" he muttered aloud, before thinking. She was clearly getting to him.

"What…?" she asked, looking almost astonished as her fingers froze mid-way down his arm.

The swirl of his stomach began. "Nothing."

She took to rolling his sleeve down again, but he could see her glare from the corner of his eye. "Nothing, hm?"

He glanced over and their eyes met for a brief moment. A faint blush pushed over Tifa's cheeks, and he knew she knew precisely what he was getting at. It was then that she finished the first sleeve, unfastened her seat belt and leaned precariously over him. Her hair brushed gently against his arm, sending chills down his spine as she brushed the sleeve down his left arm. Did she know what she was doing to him? He wondered for a moment if it wasn't some sort of game. Perhaps she had a secret of her own.

"There," she said, finishing the job.

"Thanks," he managed as he bit his lip, keeping his eyes glued to the road.

An awkward silence filled the car for the remainder of the drive, and he was surprised by this. He wondered what was running through Tifa's mind, but avoided asking the question. Things were really beginning to look a certain way, and they were looking to be in his favor.

---

Tifa glanced at Vincent from the passenger seat, catching him in her peripheral vision. Something about the way he'd confessed to the inability to focus on the road had gotten to her, prompting the escapade of leaning over him to roll down his left sleeve. She felt ridiculous the minute she'd done it, but she'd done it on impulse. She also knew it had affected him, and for some reason she rather liked that. Though she felt her roots in Edge with Cloud and the children, her heart was being inexplicably drawn toward Vincent. She was all but befuddled about the recent development of the rare feelings. They hadn't ever been so fleshed out. She had a vague idea that the strings had been tied when he became worried about her after her rescue in Mideel. He had always been supportive of her, and in his way, furiously protective. On top of these, he was stunning. This much she assessed from her seat beside him.

When they arrived in the garage of his building, however, she found herself more enraptured with the mysterious phone call than with her companion. She'd resisted the urge to question him from the minute they left the store, until the minute they arrived up in his apartment. She set her bags out of the way in the living room and watched as he sat down on the corner of the bed. She was vaguely aware that she was again studying his eyes.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"What? Oh, nothing... nothing." She shook her head, as if to back up this fact.

"Tifa."

_That voice. Why does he always have to use that voice of concern?_ "Really, it's nothing at all," she said as cheerfully as possible. The silence ensued for a moment or two. He didn't believe her, that much was written on his features.

She wandered over and sat beside him, legs propped so she could face him. "Okay, okay. I've been wondering… who was on the phone." The confession came out hesitant and as a secret revealed. She hadn't meant to sound so nosy, but it was unavoidable if she wanted to get to the bottom of things.

"Why?"

"I uh… well, I had a feeling it might be Cloud."

"It was."

_Ugh. He's so vague!_ "Am I going to have to pry it out of you?"

"You just might."

"Okay… why did he call?"

"To check on you."

"And… what did he say?" she felt like a child, questioning him with bright, round eyes.

"He asked if you were here."

"And you told him?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know… what else?"

"That was it, Tifa."

"That can't seriously be it."

"Okay, it wasn't." He smirked wryly.

"Vincent!" She took the opportunity to apply a quick jab to his upper arm.

"He wants you to call him." The look that crossed Vincent's face made her nervous, if anything. She quickly set to fidgeting with her fingers.

"What do you think he wants?"

"I don't know. He probably wants to know you're okay."

"Well… I'm with you…"

"Precisely."

And it dawned on her. Cloud might have drawn some sort of conclusion about them. She had been spending a lot of time talking with Vincent, and where did she run when things got messy? Straight to Vincent. It certainly looked incriminating.

"Hm… where's your phone?"

"Over there," he said, gesturing toward the kitchen counter where a phone sat atop a stack of paper.

"Good, keep me away from it. I just can't do this right now…" she said, biting her lip. She felt the sudden urge to cry.

"I don't mean to be intrusive, but why are you avoiding him like this?"

It was a fair question. She had never been like this before. It was usually Cloud doing the avoiding, while she waited with dark circles beneath her eyes, wearing a frown. "I… I really don't know," she cast her eyes to the floor. "I just need a little more time to think. Do you mind if I stay another night?"

"Whatever you need," he replied.

"Thanks…" She picked at her nails, begging the sinking feeling to flee.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I will be," she glanced up at him, watching his crimson eyes dance beneath the dim light. "I'm so confused, Vincent."

He didn't say anything, but his eyes urged her to continue.

"I don't know what I want anymore. I thought that Cloud was the answer to my dreams. I thought that we'd have a little family, and I'd be happy." She paused, frowning deeply. "It's not what I thought it would be, you know? Somehow… something's missing. I spent so much time wanting this, and now that I have it… it's not right. He's distant, Vincent. He disappears on a whim. I see what it does to the children, and I begin to wonder why I would want to raise children around someone like that."

"You're beginning to see that his unreliability hurts more than just your relationship."

"That, and his devotion to Aerith."

"He cannot let the past be where it belongs."

The way he said it made her believe it even more, there was something in the wisdom he possessed that put her at ease, as if he could see the truth where she failed to notice. She felt that she could trust him without a doubt, and suddenly the room seemed to shift. The truth of the matter was that she'd been feeling quite tired of Cloud's antics. One could only deal with such things for so long. She was tired of being left alone, she was fed up with feeling as though she was second best, she was tired of the distanced demeanor, and she was tired of seeing Marlene cry when the girl thought no one was looking. She felt the tears well up and threaten to spill, and she blinked them back.

"I can't do it anymore… Vincent."

She let her chin fall slightly, before she felt his arms pull her into a soft embrace. She melted into him, nestling her head into his neck. The scent that greeted her made her stomach knot for a moment, and she felt the warmth of his breath against her shoulder, and then she felt the urge to kiss him. Where did that come from?

She slipped her arms over his thighs, letting him hold her and reveling in the way it felt to be in his embrace. Something about the way he held her was undoubtedly alluring. The truth might have more accurately been that she was falling out of love with Cloud, and in love with Vincent. She couldn't admit that before tonight, but now she felt powerless to stop it.

---

The rose and amber teased his nose as he held her close. She was clearly at her end with this Cloud business. It was more obvious now than it had ever been. The fact that she was here while Cloud sat in Edge worried showed her feelings well enough. She had had it with him.

"You deserve much better than this, Tifa. I'm sorry, but it needed to be said."

He felt her stiffen, and then pull slowly away. A strand of hair caught on his chin and stretched between them for a moment, before pulling away and falling to her shoulder. She looked at him with liquid eyes. "Why would you apologize for saying that?" her voice sounded slight.

"I don't want to hurt you…" It was utterly true. He wanted to protect her from anything that would harm her.

"You… Vincent, you're so good to me."

Helpless to move, he sat frozen for a moment while her lips brushed his cheek. The tender kiss left him feeling dizzy, but she quickly helped him recover with an infectious smile.

"Distract me," she said excitedly. Again, he thought of distracting her with a kiss.

"Again?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "How about we grab a bite to eat? The sun's going down, it's got to be late."

Her resilience surprised him. He figured she was simply trying to put the issues to rest and get her mind off them until she felt in a better place to think about what to do. "Where would you like to go?"

"How about that place on Main?"

"The little Wutainese restaurant?"

"Sure, why not?"

"That sounds good."

He watched her smile again and stand to find her bags. He hoped that she might put on the dress, if she'd bought it. The restaurant was rather nice, and would require some kind of dress attire.

"I hope you bought something appropriate."

_Let that settle in._

* * *

Soo, I must apologize for the delay once again! I hardly meant to keep anyone waiting. Life got fairly busy, and I couldn't keep up for a while. However, I am back! So the next update should not be nearly so long in the process.

Also, this chapter was a tad short. I had originally ended it further along, but decided then that it would be far too long. So, I had to separate the chapters where this ended. How did I do on my return? Thoughts, suggestions, con crit and all that would be amazing.

I have to thank Motchi for all of her help on the dialogue with Cloud and Vincent. I have a hard time with Cloud, so that was such a blessing! Thanks for all the advice, you're the best.

The little black dress was for Tiramisu of Impending Doom ;)

-- _Randi _--


	5. The Art of Honesty

Tifa fidgeted with the neckline of the dress. She'd been a little more than impulsive all day long, and the dress was just another part of the mix. Though the restaurant did call for a notch above casual, she couldn't help but wear it simply for the fact that it had made Vincent smile. She liked when he smiled.

She was tip-toeing into the living room, eyes searching for the pair of shoes she'd snagged to go with the dress when he'd noticed her. He'd changed before she had, long sleeves and black slacks. His hair was drawn back, tied, with bangs loose and frayed around his jaw. She found his eyes, watched the corner of his lips curve just enough to hint a smile, and turned her attention back to the heels, sliding them on.

"Ready?"

"Of course."

- - -

Tifa gave a contented sigh, leaning back in the chair. Dinner had been breathtaking, but the conversation had been scarce. Ever since she'd grilled him in the car on what his thoughts were of the phone call, what she should do, he'd been avoiding her eyes. She was biting her lip when he brought out his wallet, apparently lost in silent deliberation.

Their eyes met for a moment, and she reached across the table to put a hand over his. "Put that away."

"You're not paying, Tifa."

"That's not why I'm asking. Come on," she stood from the table, smoothing the skirt of the dress back into place.

"What are we doing?"

"We're having a drink."

His brows rose ever so slightly when she tilted her head in the direction of the lounge. He glanced toward the room beyond twin panels of thin glass. The area was significantly darker than the rest of the building, and the music was thumping faintly. If she'd wanted a more seductive environment, she would have been hard pressed to find one. He ignored the buzz in his ears and pushed back from the table.

"I'm not going to waste the evening dissecting phone calls and slicing through silence."

_Finally._ "Dissection finished." He rose to his feet, following her to the lounge, receipt in hand.

The music was low, with rhythm to spare. The bass was just enough to bother the hairs on the back of his neck without giving him a headache. Tifa wound through the crowd and chose a rounded booth in the darkest corner of the room, strategically close to the bar.

"I'll get those drinks."

She was at the counter, ordering drinks with a polite smile. He studied her face in the dim, orange light, focusing on her lips as she spoke. She'd started with gloss, but it had rubbed thin since they'd left his apartment. He couldn't help but notice the delicate curve her bottom lip took, or the small indentation spilling to her lips from beneath her pert nose.

He was silently hoping the maroon drink in her right hand wasn't his when she left the bar. Thankfully, the tumbler in her left was a little more inviting.

"Scotch." She was setting the glass down skillfully while sliding into the seat across from him. She knew him well.

"And what, pray tell, is _that_?" He eyed the dark liquid curiously, watching her sip the iced drink through a tiny straw.

"This-" she slid it toward him "-is a mix of raspberry, vodka, and mango liqueur."

"I'll pass."

"Suit yourself." She went back to sipping the drink, watching the few couples on the dance floor sway methodically with the music.

The scotch gave the warmth of familiarity he didn't mind in the least. He could tell she'd zoned out. Her fingers were gathered beneath her chin, her lips drawn together. She was still thinking about the call, despite her best effort to make light of the evening. That frustrated him beyond anything he could recall in recent years.

"Tifa…"

"Hmm?" She lazily craned her neck, gazing at him through another sip of her drink.

"You're dissecting."

"Oh! Right. Sometimes I forget you're a mind reader."

He thought he detected a slight amount of sarcasm in her voice, but he let it roll over his shoulders. Did she forget how transparent she could be at times? "Are you sure you don't want-"

"Don't. Leave the last part out. I know where it's going." She polished off the drink, grimacing and setting the glass down a little too firmly for his peace of mind. "Can we dance?"

He was still feeling rusty from the dance in the rain, unsure of anything beyond that, but he could tell she needed it. "Sure."

She rose carefully, leading him through the mingled bodies until she found a spot to her liking. She turned to him, dark eyes full of tiny lights and shadow. He felt out of place, but she pulled him into a rhythm that matched the pulse of the music and dusty memories came flooding back to him. In all his years since awakening, he'd never imagined he'd be calling up long forgotten talents for the sake of one woman.

He tried to ignore the way her hips moved, tried not to imagine the way the muscles of her abdomen would flex with each sultry motion, tried to forget about the way a sheen of sweat misted her chest, and the fragrance that drifted from her pores, but in the end he simply couldn't keep his imagination from toying with his thoughts. Then, seemingly by accident, she brushed her hip against the inside of his thigh. He couldn't figure out how their movement had allowed it, but the heat that flashed through his skull told him he didn't care. He could feel the crest of the bone, solid and prominent beneath the sheer fabric. Though the moment was fleeting, it played in such slow motion that he found himself wondering what else he'd be able to feel through the dress.

"Sorry," she murmured, moving a couple of inches from him.

Several minutes later and not a moment too soon, the music shifted gears. The pace slowed, pushing the other couples into each other's arms. Tifa paused, looking to him with curious eyes. For a moment, he thought she'd coax him into a slow dance, but she sighed and pushed her hair back from her shoulders.

"It's warm. I'm gonna grab another drink."

It did not go unnoticed to him that she was flustered. Her cheeks were ruddy, and her arms were shaking. The temperature had risen considerably, but he doubted that had anything to do with her behavior. Idly, he shook his head and returned to the table, catching a nervous glance from the bar.

"Sorry, I was getting thirsty." She'd seated herself across from him again, sipping a refill of that raspberry concoction.

"Alcohol won't quench your thirst."

"It's cold and it tastes like candy. That's good enough for me."

Again, she seemed to be short with him, and he was wondering what had gotten into her. The answer was obvious, but he chose to ignore it for as long as she'd let him.

"I just can't bring myself to leave it alone, Vincent."

_Apparently, not long at all._

The air of her statement was similar to that of a confession. He'd seen it coming, despite his hope that she'd been distracted by the friction of the dance floor. It was beginning to annoy him, as much as he tried not to let it.

"I know, Tifa."

"I'm sorry…"

"You keep apologizing."

"Well, I feel terrible. I keep trying to make the night enjoyable, but my mind just won't let me."

"What do you want?"

She looked at him as though he'd just proposed skydiving from Sierra in the middle of the Northern Crater. "What?"

"What would you consider the best outcome for your current situation?"

"I… I guess I'd really like to get on with my life. Forget about having any kind of romance with him, all the stupid ways he's made me feel like nothing."

The truth was ugly, and she was frowning. She'd never quite said it in those words, and he thought it was a step forward. "What would it take for you to get to that point?"

"I've never thought about that..."

"In order to get to a point of progress, you need to know what helps and what doesn't."

"What does _not_ help? That's easy. The mixed signals. One day he doesn't seem to care. The next he's calling to check on me."

There would be no going back after the comment he was considering, but it was the honest truth. "Tifa, did you ever consider that he does care, hence the calls, but that he doesn't care in the way that you expect?"

The words came out wrong. He could see it in her eyes.

"I never expected anything from him." The color had drained from her face, and her voice was edgy.

"That's not what I meant to say. I was saying that perhaps he cares the way Barret or Cid care. Not in a romantic sense, despite your efforts together."

"As in… he's always been that way and he was forcing the situation?"

There was no delicate way to put it. "Maybe he confused his emotions following the Meteor."

She obviously hated to hear what he was saying, but he was tired of the deception. "And now I'm left feeling cheated, sitting in a bar drinking fruity alcohol, trying to dream up ways to make it all go away?"

The tone she used startled him, "Tifa, calm down."

She huffed indignantly. "Calm down? I never thought of this explanation to things. In ways, it's easier to believe, less painful than some of the other explanations. But it hurts all the same."

"You really hadn't thought of it that way?"

Her expression told him that she had, but was simply lashing out at the way it had sounded coming from him. "I just want to forget."

"Then you need to move past it, find what helps and use that to your advantage."

"And what if it isn't 'what helps,' but who?"

He could feel the blood rush to his face, his controlled pulse moving more quickly. "Then you let them help."

The words seemed to register, soothing her down from the tension he could sense in her lips and eyes. However, he was feeling tenser by the minute. The compound of frustrations he'd felt since she'd come to him were boiling with all the little moments of contact they'd shared since her arrival. The tension on the dance floor and her inability to leave the call alone hadn't helped. He didn't blame her, and he wasn't necessarily frustrated _with_ her, but rather with the situation as a whole.

- - -

Tifa could feel the slight hum of the alcohol she'd all but inhaled. She could feel a lot more than that from where she was sitting. His shoulders were rigid and his jaw was squared. She'd hurt him, even if he'd probably never admit it. She'd been blind, or perhaps more accurately, in denial about the way he treated her. She was sure now, that he cared about her far more than he was letting on. And she'd hurt him.

"Vincent, _you _arehelping. More than you know… I just don't make that very clear. I need to face this head on, rather than let it get the best of me like it has for so long."

"That is a start."

It was hard not to notice that he was no longer talking without being prompted by her questions or statements. She briefly settled her forehead into her hands, feeling low and trying to find a way to fix it. She certainly wouldn't be able to in this noisy lounge, where they'd been just shy of shouting through the entire conversation.

"Can we get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

He hastily went to the bar, paying off the tab and the receipt for dinner while she made her way to the door. He was making a quick exit, proof enough of the way he was feeling. It wasn't long before they were back in his car, his eyes glued to the road ahead while she sat in silence. The night wasn't going as she'd wanted it to. Not at all. And it was her chance to return a few favors.

"What's wrong?" She hesitated, but reached across the car to put her hand on his shoulder soothingly.

"Hm?" He was focused, but he glanced at her for a moment, scanning her eyes.

"Just wondering why you're so quiet."

"No reason in particular. I am tired."

"Why didn't you say something?"

He gave a short laugh, "Didn't want to ruin your night."

"I did that all on my own."

She brushed her fingers down his bicep, feeling the muscle flex in reaction to her touch. He really was extraordinary, from the way he was put together to the depth of his personality. And he had so much to give.

"It was not a complete failure."

"Well aren't you the optimist."

"Honestly."

"And why do you say that?"

"You've realized some important points."

"Oh, that," she paused. "They've always been there. It's just taken forever to see them for what they are."

And that was a simple truth she'd finally found a shred of comfort in. There was nothing left to hang onto with Cloud. They'd tried, and they'd tried hard. He really had put effort in, because the truth was that he did care for her, but it wasn't in a way that made her feel complete. She considered the idea of his friendship alongside the likes of Cid and Barret, as Vincent had compared, and she found the similarities startling. They'd both be worried about her absence, protective of her, and they'd all come to her rescue if she were to get into trouble. She realized then that it really was love. The kind of love one gave to a family member, and they were all family.

The engine died down and she recognized the garage. She hadn't even registered the last part of the drive. The apartment was warm, and she felt at home walking through the door. She slipped her heels off by the entry and watched as Vincent sat sideways on the corner of the bed. She'd never seen him quite so withdrawn, at least not since they began to see each other often.

"Vincent?"

His eyes met hers. "Do you remember the first time I came to see you?"

"Of course."

"A little more than a year ago…" This meant that her significant problems with Cloud had been ongoing for at least that long, an admission she felt strangely about. "You were so reserved about your opinions on my problems."

"I was trying to be supportive."

"And you've been the most stable part of my life for a year. Now you've been honest about your thoughts, and I have to tell you…" She crossed the room and sat beside him, preserving eye contact. "I really appreciate that even if it hurts. I'm not sure if I could've found my head without you."

He was focused on her, but she could still feel the tension in his posture. He was struggling to put it aside, as she had been earlier. He'd helped her, and it was time she helped him.

"Relax," she soothed, tucking her calves beneath her seat to level with him. Before he could move, she placed her fingers on either side of his face, brushing pitch-dark bangs aside to gain access to the delicate skin of his temples. She moved her fingers slowly, kneading the skin gently. He'd gone rigid at first, but with each circle he seemed to relax, shoulders slumping and sinking while his eyes closed.

- - -

The effort she was making to help him relax had been hypnotizing him, draining the rigidity from his posture and taking it elsewhere. He finally found the courage to open his eyes, and he studied her neck since it was now even with his line of sight. He traveled the curvature of her skin to her exposed collar bone. It was then he noticed the tiniest of imperfections, a dark freckle standing out against her fair skin that he wanted to kiss.

"Much better." Her voice had been thick when her fingers left his temples.

There was something about the way she'd taken such care to help him relax that just put things into perspective. And there it was; the opportunity he'd been waiting for since he'd first recognized his feelings months ago.

His hands joined hers, cupping over her fingers for a moment before trailing up her arms. He could see her shudder beneath the contact as his fingers climbed her neck and rested at the base of her ears. The room seemed degrees hotter, and he could hear his heart hammering in his ears, feel the blood coursing through his veins. There was so much pent up in the moment that it felt as though the air had become charged with explosives. He held her there a moment, nervous and working up the nerve as her eyes traced his lips.

Her position was just so that he had to rise carefully to align with her, but it felt clumsy and disoriented. Gently, he pulled her closer until the breadth of an inch separated their lips. The warmth of her moist exhalation caught when he finally pushed his lips against hers. The timing wasn't perfect, perhaps not even the moment, but he couldn't have cared less when she pressed herself against him and accepted his kiss.

He wanted to devour her lips, to feel every inch of her. He could taste the sweet combination of raspberry and mango, tinged by the harshness of vodka, on her lips as they parted, offering more than he'd ever expected. Her hands were roaming, blazing a path down his spine, one settling while the other climbed again to tangle with his ponytail. His hands left her neck, brushing down the curve of her torso to grip her hips, faintly recalling the way she had felt against his thigh. The electric need that arched her back and forced a soft cry pushed him to the edge of his control, threatening to take him down.

What had began as hesitant had turned to scorching, and he could barely find the strength to divide their connection. He pulled back, breathless and aching and knowing that _everything _had just changed.

* * *

_How _could I not end there? I tried to justify carrying on, but it seemed like such the perfect end to a difficult chapter even if the consequence is a thousand words shorter than I'd planned. Things will indeed change from this point, and the story will shift gears. I have much in mind, and we haven't seen the last of Cloud.

I struggled and agonized over where to place the kiss, and how to work it in. That's mostly the reason I have delayed this chapter as much as I have. I apologize for that, and I hope I did their first kiss justice. It was hesitant and clumsy, but that was intentional.

I'm coming to a point in life where things are shifting and I can finally feel like myself again. Just a few weeks to go and I my husband will be home, and you will certainly be seeing more of me. He seems to hold a lot more power over my ability to focus than I'd first guessed ;)

This is why I need to dedicate the hours of this chapter to him. I have drawn _so_ much inspiration from his encouragement and love. Thank you darling!


	6. Going Home

Tifa's eyes seemed to be glowing with something, the hints of wine more pronounced beneath half-mast lids. Now that he'd kissed her, he had no idea what to do next. At least no idea of anything he knew to be appropriate. All he could think of were things he wasn't sure should happen at the point they'd come to.

"Vincent…" she whispered, chin sliding forward in his hands until her forehead rested against his.

His hands drifted down her neck, sweeping her hair to the center of her back. He thought she'd mention how wrong this was, or perhaps that she wasn't ready to move on. Instead, she kissed him again. His nose was crushed, but somehow it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to.

She broke away and rolled her cheek sideways against his. It was then that he noticed the moisture, like a thin trail of dew.

"Tifa," he said, moving her away so that he could look at her. Light reflected off the slender paths of her tears. "Why are you crying?"

He was a little more than lost. She'd kissed him and she'd seemingly enjoyed it, and now she was crying. With his thumb, he gently dried her tears.

"I don't know, Vincent." She bit her lip and met his eyes, "I guess it was… I guess because I… _Oh, gods_. I have no clue."

She was quickly becoming the most confusing woman he'd ever known. "Is it really that you don't know, or that you don't want to tell me?"

"Mm. I wish it was that easy. If I didn't want to tell you, I'd know and I wouldn't be tearing my mind to shreds trying to figure it out." She sighed after a deep breath. "I think I'm just overwhelmed."

"I would not be surprised. You've discovered a lot tonight." _And I shouldn't have pushed it._

"No… not in that sense."

Silence seemed the best reply.

"In the sense that I knew there was something here with you, but I never could let myself believe it. And now… well, there's no way I can deny it now."

"Is that a bad thing?" He knew that his tone sounded far too pretentious.

"Not at all. But I guess I just have to sort things out."

"With Cloud?" He cringed inwardly, hoping that things wouldn't cycle back to that point.

"No," she blurted, almost indignantly. "I think I've got that sorted. It's mostly the kids. And you."

She found a more comfortable position on the bed, but reached for his hand.

"I know that I feel something for you, Vincent. And I know I've been pushing it away and calling it friendship because I was so stuck on the idea of Cloud. More recently… as I've been realizing that he's only an idea, I've known I wanted nothing more with _him_ than friendship. That's why I left, to be honest." She paused, lacing her fingers in and out of his. "I left because I was honest with myself. I knew those things we discussed at dinner months ago. I guess I just finally came to the conclusion that I want to be happy. And you make me happy."

He wanted to question her on the last little bit. She'd certainly gone on quite a bit at the lounge, but he decided better of it. She was confused, but he didn't doubt that she was honest about moving on.

"I just need some time to get there, if that's okay with you?" Her smile seemed much brighter than it had in a while.

"Tifa, you know what's best for you. If you need time, take it. I know that these things don't happen over night." _But I can certainly try._

"Thank you for understanding."

He didn't like the way she was looking at him, head tilted slightly to the side, eyes glimmering.

"I want you to be honest with me, now," she started. "What do you want?"

And the tables turned. Now that heavy question he'd dealt her was lying in front of him. Seconds passed while he considered his answer. Since they were on such an honest streak, he decided on chance.

"I'd like very much to find out what could be between us."

"Really?" she questioned, tilting her head further.

"Yes, really."

"Why?"

A fair question, but it caught him off-guard nonetheless. He suspected she was fishing for a couple of compliments and some reassurance.

"Why? Hm," he drew the word out, drawing her in. Suspense was a great weapon sometimes.

"Oh, come_ on_."

"Tifa, you're quite simply the most amazing woman I've ever met. I believe I've mentioned that before. Confusing as you are, I really enjoy your company and remember? I'm selfish and indulgent. I want more of that company."

She looked surprised for a moment, but quickly recovered. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean 'is that all'? I'd say that's quite a bit. Never mind that kissing you turns—"

She interrupted him, seven deliberate kisses stealing words.

—_turns my insides to mush._ "That was unfair."

"Sometimes life goes that way," she said through a smile. "So I guess you'd like to know what I really want."

"That would be nice."

"Well, I do want to move on and be happy. That isn't all, though. I really want to spend more time with you. So I guess I could indulge you with that company."

"That would be _very_ nice."

"But I have to take care of a few things first."

He was dreading that part, though he knew it was necessary. He just hoped that things wouldn't regress. And he wasn't excited about going along, but knew that she needed support.

"I know. Would you like a ride?"

"Not right this second. I can put it off a little longer. Say… tomorrow? It's getting late anyway"

He'd lost track of time. "Tomorrow it is."

And suddenly she was hugging him, arms tight around his neck. It felt like heaven to hold her.

"I get the feeling I'll never be able to thank you enough."

"You don't need to."

_- - -_

Tomorrow came far too swiftly, stealing sleep and bringing Tifa to consciousness. She rolled slightly to her left, only to find her hair tangled around Vincent's bicep. Pulling slowly, she managed to free herself, but she could feel a dull ache where his arm had pushed her hair up at the scalp. She was so unused to sleeping with someone else, but she knew that the feeling of waking up beside him was worth it.

She watched him for a moment, enjoying the way his lips were curved in sleep and charmed by his dark, long lashes. Men always had the best lashes. Ironic when women are the one's who craved them. With the tips of her fingers she brushed his cheek, ending with a kiss, unable to help the show of affection.

She crawled out from beneath the sheets, pausing a moment when her feet hit the floor. It had gotten cold overnight, and she suddenly craved something warm. Her best attempts at quietly pulling the kettle off the stove and filling it with water seemed silly once she realized it would whistle once hot. She scanned the kitchen, eyeing the microwave. It would beep loudly. Back to the kettle. She set it on one of the burners and lit the flame.

Waking up to the whistle of a kettle would be unpleasant. She padded across the room and bent over the edge of the bed, "Vincent?"

His eyelids flickered, and he mumbled something she didn't catch.

"Vincent." She touched his shoulder.

"Mmph."

"Sorry, I have to. Otherwise, the kettle will do it for me."

Not to mention she was anxious to get moving.

"What time is it?" he managed, eyes still closed.

"It's eight o'clock."

"Damn."

"Sleep must have been good."

He finally opened his eyes, looking groggy, but dangerous with the smirk that suddenly inched onto his lips.

"If you hadn't been rolling around, perhaps I would have gotten to sleep a little sooner."

She felt warmth seep onto her cheeks. "I didn't…"

"But," he started, sitting up. She couldn't help but remember how wonderful he looked shirtless. "You are still the best person to sleep next to."

"Even with the rolling?"

He nodded firmly. "I guess I enjoy you too much."

"I'm okay with that."

He reached up and tucked loose strands behind her ear. She was on the verge of climbing back into bed when the kettle screamed. She rolled her eyes and went to tend to it, leaving a very disappointed looking Vincent.

"What are you making?"

"Tea?"

"It's in the cabinet beside the refrigerator."

"Can I make you a cup?"

"I'm not one for tea in the morning."

"Okay then. Get dressed; we'll grab breakfast before hitting the road."

He smirked at her bossiness, and she was instantly self-conscious about it. She dropped the tea bag into a mug and added steaming water, waiting for the transformation.

"The shower is calling my name."

Tifa watched him as he got out of bed and stretched, resisting the impulse to join him in the shower. She settled for dipping the tea bag, eyes following him as he grabbed clean clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. And that was where the trouble started. The entire time she listened to the water run, she couldn't keep her imagination from taking a run of its own.

Sipping tea like it was going out of style, she paced the room. Would it be rushing things? Would it be wrong in any way? Why was she thinking like this? Once she started toward the door, but quickly diverted to the kitchen. She was sitting on the counter, swinging her legs impatiently when he finally emerged twenty minutes later.

She half expected him to ask her why she'd been pacing and why her legs wouldn't quit swinging. When he approached her, she was afraid her train of thought would be too obvious.

"How was the tea?"

Tea was the last thing she could focus on when the scent of timber drifted between them. His hair was wet, smelling of shampoo and clinging to his cheek on the right side.

"It was perfect…"

"Good." He was fidgeting with various things, moving objects around. "Any chance you remember where I put the keys?"

Sometimes she thought a uterus was necessary to find keys and vacuum properly.

"They're behind the waste basket."

He looked at her oddly. "How did that happen?"

"You threw them across the room when you came in last night."

"I obviously missed the counter."

"Clearly. Maybe you shouldn't toss things around when you're upset."

"I wasn't upset."

"Oh, Vincent, don't lie. You were tenser than I've seen you in a long time."

"Only because of you."

"I know. I'm terrible," she jested.

"You really are. You've the ability to drive me crazy."

She smiled, loving the banter. He'd changed so much since she first met him. Or perhaps it was just that he'd grown comfortable. Whatever it was, it was. But she loved the way he was, and more accurately she loved the way they were together. Something she found invaluable.

"I guess I'd better get cleaned up."

"I might have some tea after all."

"The water's still hot."

With a push, she slid off the counter. Finding a new outfit in the shopping bag was easy. Putting aside the scent of shampoo and soap associated with Vincent was not. She turned the water back on, finding the water perfectly warm from use. She laid her clean clothes on the bathroom counter and stripped, thinking only of getting tangles and rat's nests out of her hair without removing half of it. She'd have to stop rolling around in bed with Vincent. The thought gave her a guilty smile.

Once she'd finished and dressed, she headed into the living room, steam rolling out with her. Things would get ugly if she didn't get a hold of a hair dryer.

"You don't have a blow dryer, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"Great," she huffed, "get ready to see disastrous hair." Served her right for making last minute decisions.

"It looked fine after the rain."

"Well, that's because all of the products hadn't washed out."

"I'm sure you will look fine."

"You've never seen it."

"How bad could it possibly be?"

"Bad. Horrible. Unmanageable."

- - -

"Tifa, I think it's beautiful."

She was staring out the window, watching trees pass by. They were half way to the next town and he was glad the weather had brightened. At least something was going right. He was more than a little unhappy to be headed for Edge.

"Shut up. It's terrible."

Her hair was naturally wavy, and he never would have known. There weren't any curls, just long, flowing waves toward the ends that looked as if they'd been styled. He found it lovely.

"I don't think so. In fact, I like it that way."

"It's frizzy," she whined, pulling at the ends.

It was a losing battle. He'd told her ten times that she looked amazing, but she was convinced her waves were the work of Ifrit.

A change of subject was in order. She'd wanted to know why he'd thrown in a small duffel bag, and he thought it a good time to tell her.

"I was thinking I'd stay in Edge for a couple of days."

She finally looked at him, "Ah. That's good to hear."

He knew that she'd need his support, and he'd thought up the idea while she was in the shower. He'd also been wondering how a long distance relationship would work if she really did want to see where they could go.

"Does that mean you'll take me out to cheer me up after I deal with this mess?"

She was grinning, but he knew she was concerned behind the mask. Despite their suspicions about Cloud's feelings for her, there was always a chance that it could be a different story. As determined as she was to break things off and move on, he wondered how it'd affect her if Cloud was upset by that. Though she hadn't said it, he could tell she was worried.

"If you'd like, we can have dinner or relax."

"I'd love that."

He was glad to hear that. It meant that she was not simply talking the past night. He wanted to believe every word she'd said, but he was guarded and afraid that she'd change her mind if Cloud asked. Though he was ninety percent sure that Cloud wouldn't ask that, another ten percent ate at his mind and dampened his mood.

Despite the doubts, he focused on the road ahead. Trees blurred and he listened to the sounds as other cars passed. It seemed the closer they came to Edge, the more uncomfortable the silence became. He was about to search for a decent radio station when his phone rang.

He glanced around the car, remembering that he'd tossed the phone in the center console.

"Can you get that?"

Tifa opened the compartment and pulled out the phone, silencing the ring. "It's my home number."

_Great._ "Well, we'll be there in an hour."

She nodded and answered.

"Yeah, it's me… actually, we're on our way there now." She paused and looked out the passenger window. "An hour or so…" She was biting her nails, "Yeah. Sure. Okay." Tense.

When she hung up, she rolled the phone end over end in her fingers.

"Was that Cloud?"

"Yes," she answered, setting the phone down. "He just wanted to see if I was coming back any time soon. Told me that Marlene has been asking when, and that Denzel has been worried. Had the nerve to mention he thought I was being irresponsible."

That angered him. "After all the times he's gone on deliveries and spent days out?"

"Yep. Can you believe that?"

His stomach tightened. He was certainly more convinced that things would not be going smoothly for the next few days.

"I'm sorry, Vincent. This is all so ridiculous."

"No apologies necessary. I'm just worried about you."

"I'll be fine. I just don't want to fight. I hate fighting."

"Then just lay out the situation and leave it at that. If you avoid giving opportunities for opposition, it will be harder for him to start an argument without feeling like an ass."

She laughed lightly. "I don't think there's ever been a time he hasn't felt like an ass."

That flew right over his head.

"He's always telling me what a failure he is. I actually get tired of seeing that. It's like he has no confidence in himself."

"He's got a lot of growing up to do."

"Well, I wish he'd stop."

"He may not. It is guilt and blame that he is drowning in. Those two can be a powerful combination."

Her eyes questioned him. He knew that it'd sounded like he was speaking from experience.

"We can get into my… colorful past later."

She seemed to accept that. Likely because he'd asked her to, but he knew her curious nature would be back later on.

His foot was not cooperating. The closer Edge came, the less pressure he seemed to be able to put on the gas pedal. He'd never wanted to avoid anything more. Not killing. Not rushing to the aid of the Planet. Not Shin-Ra. Nothing. Because in all truth, nothing scared him more than losing her at this point.

As they passed the city limits, he was relieved in the fact that the streets were congested. It gave him a little more time to prepare for what was to come. Several reminders that what will be, will be and two urges to "accidentally" run out of gas later he realized that this was absolutely unavoidable.

There was much at risk, but what good would a relationship with her be if not based on a clean slate. Not that either of them could hope to have a slate without blemish, but getting as close as possible would be a good idea. Determination and trust pushed him the rest of the distance. If they were meant to be, then they would come out on top of this. If not, then he would find a way to bow out gracefully for her sake.

"I'm glad we're almost there." The comment earned her a strange look. "I think my butt fell asleep miles ago."

He smirked, "I could fix that if you'd like." When he was apprehensive, he could be unpredictable.

"Vincent!" She provided a mock glare.

"Just mentioning…"

"I'll let you know if I need your… _assistance_."

Seventh Heaven came up on the left. He paralleled the curb and put the car in park, staring at the steering wheel.

"Are you coming in?"

"I think that is a bad idea."

"You're probably right. I've got to deal with this on my own."

"I'll go find a place to stay, why don't you give me a call when you're ready."

"I'll do that."

"Good."

She smiled an anemic smile and reached in back for her things before pushing the door open. "Here goes…"

When she climbed out and stepped onto the curb, she paused and held the corner of the door, almost as if she needed to force herself to leave the car. After hesitating a few more seconds, she closed the door and turned to him with a wave before making her way to the door.

He didn't wait to see that she got inside. It just wasn't in his realm of powers.

* * *

_Well, there's chapter six. I was slightly torn on the path I'd take from five, but I think that this will be better in the long run. I hope it wasn't too tedious or dramatic. I really am shooting for a realistic take rather than a soap opera ;) it's hard when you're a GH addict. But I will not make a Sam out of Tifa, I promise._

_Anyhow, I really hope that readers will enjoy this chapter. I put a lot of work into this one, carefully choosing how to portray the relationships between the characters. I don't want to step on toes or turn Cloud into a villain simply because things didn't work out with Tifa. That happens; it is life in dating and love._

_Sorry about the waves, it was a spur of the moment idea to lighten things up a bit. I figured there's a bit of liberty, since we don't really know how hair would naturally be for the characters. I don't think Cloud wakes up to spikes every day. Or maybe he does… but anyway, hope you don't mind._

_Vincent is getting more out of his shell, and while it is my goal, I hope I haven't pushed the limit. Let me know what you think, I'd love to know and I _love_ reviews._

_My husband is in the field all week and I won't see him, but I do have House to look forward to tonight! Thank goodness I can focus on something :) _


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